Money, honey.
A sensible person doesn’t need all that much.
But sensible people sometimes — depsite their innate sensibility — get tangled up with people who aren’t sensible. Or anything close to it. People who refuse to acknowledge cold hard reality. People who invent their own reality and try to drag you in behind them. And when the reality you tried to share with them becomes an untenable fantasy, they leave you holding the big, stinky bag.
[BTW, you’ll notice me as songwriter being hoist on the petard of my compulsion to work contemporary technology into my lyrics. Floppy disks for those of you who began computing in this century were those… ]
Bankruptcy Court No. 9
my baby left me
left me sad and cryin…
she said I’m takin the plastic
leaving all these bills behind
I got a hearing Monday down in
bankruptcy Court Number 9…
My baby won’t be there with me
an neither wil my credit ine
Oh baby those checks you wrote
to the dress and jewelry stores
You hung so much bad paper
they won’t take my (dough) cash no more
Telecredit’s got a file on you
takes a thousand floppy disks
TRW blew a main frame
just counting your bad checks
You drove me to the poorhouse
and shoved me thru the door
but first ya picked my pocket
to make sure they was no more
(C)1988
